True tales and even taller ones

GEOFFREY Leet tells a good story about the wartime air crash at Eagle’s Rock.

The chairman of the Caithness Field Club, who last summer led a group to the crash site in the foothills of the Scarabens, describes how the first to arrive on the scene of the horrific accident on August 25, 1942 , which claimed the life of the Duke of Kent, noticed how a lot of ladies’ shoes lay scattered around the wreckage.

The official enquiry into the circumstances surrounding the crash of Flight W 4206 concluded that a "serious mistake in airmanship" had been responsible for the tragedy. Given that the King’s brother, the Duke of Kent, was on board, many have speculated down the years about what actually happened on that fateful day.

The aircraft, a Sunderland flying boat, had not long taken off from its base at Invergordon and was heading on a "special mission" to visit military personnel at Reykjavik, Iceland.

Only one man survived the crash. Flt Sgt Andrew Jack was the tail gunner. The aircraft’s tail had broken off on impact with the remote Caithness hillside and Jack was thrown clear from the wreckage. He lay badly burned before he was able to muster the strength to raise the alarm.

The Duke of Kent was a rather florid character. Prime Minster Winston Churchill described him as a "gallant and handsome prince". Yet his various biographies describe a married man who had a string of affairs with both men and women. He is said to have had a 19-year affair with the playwright Noel Coward. His biographies also describe alleged drug addictions, notably with morphine and cocaine. Of course none of this would have been known to the British public at the time.

In my article last week I described how the ongoing Leveson Inquiry is looking into issues about media intrusion into the private lives of politicians and celebrities alike. It will be interesting to see what recommendations Leveson comes up with as he seeks to draw a balance between the public’s right to know and individual’s rights to personal privacy.

Some have claimed that it was the Duke of Kent who was at the controls of the aircraft. Others have speculated that Hitler’s deputy Rudolph Hess was on board. (He had flown to Britain in May 1941 in an attempt to broker a peace deal.)

Bizarrely, when Jack reached an isolated cottage to call for help he was told by the woman there who came to his assistance, "You’re not the only visitor I’ve had in wartime. In the last war it was the Kaiser!" (It has led to speculation that the estate’s owners, the Bentinck family, had sheltered the deposed German leader).

It’s the stuff of conspiracy theories!

Was Flight W 4206 sabotaged? Why did the only man who could shed light on the events, Flt Sgt Andrew Jack, remain silent for the rest of his life other than to say that it wasn’t pilot error; that it wasn’t Flight Lieutenant Frank Goyen, the Sunderland’s pilot’s, fault?

I WAS trying to share a few of my own stories last week with members of the Caithness Field Club when I presented them with a slideshow version of my recently published book Under A Northern Sky.

They reminded me just how much wealth of knowledge people have about local history – and just how many different versions there are!

The field club has members from all over Caithness with many different backgrounds and interests. Many of the members are keenly interested in local history, archaeology, geography, natural history and other topics.

Their members lead walks and a variety of outings throughout the year. In the winter months their indoor programme includes lectures, talks, slideshows, etc. Well worth checking them out.

The week before, in the Wick Heritage Centre, presenting the same slideshow, I took the liberty of suggesting that the Russian Revolution could be blamed squarely on Wick! It took members of the audience by surprise.

Of course the events that led to that Bolshevik uprising in 1917 are complex: not least the political, socio-economic factors of a dictatorial Romanov dynasty that had condemned millions to their deaths on the Eastern Front.

My own theory was much simpler. Wick was to blame simply by virtue of sending millions and millions of barrels of salted herrings to the Russian peasantry. Had you been fed such a staple diet for decades and decades wouldn’t you have revolted?!

Mmm... bit of a tall story. Not sure how that theory went down with the audience.

I HAD the welcome opportunity of meeting the renowned man of letters Jim Johnston last week. The head teacher at Farr High School in Bettyhill has a well-earned reputation as an inspiring and innovative educationalist.

Readers will also know Jim from reading his regular contributions to the local press in the Far North.

It seems he inherited the mantel of northern scribe from his predecessor, Donald MacLeod, who died in 1977. It was then that Jim started writing for the Golspie-based Northern Times.

He expanded the role and was soon a regular correspondent for the Groat, Courier and, for a while, the People’s Journal and also the Press and Journal.

Jim is a man of many interests. Readers will be familiar with his regular Skywatching column in which he shares all matters astronomical.

By far one of Jim’s greatest contributions, as I see it, has been the obituaries he pens for members of the community along Sutherland’s north coast.

I knew only a very few of the folk he describes but what I do know is that he has faithfully and diligently penned very fitting tributes to many member of that community who passed away. And, doubtless, like many others I have always read those accounts with great interest. I think he has fulfilled a great service to the folk along the north coast.

Jim also writes the occasional book review. Excuse the relentless product placement but it was in this latter capacity that we had arranged to meet. A keen photographer, too, he wanted to take my photograph for the review he is to pen of Under A Northern Sky for the Northern Times. (I hope his camera lens survived the experience!)

So we met at the Tempest Café, by Thurso harbour, shared a few stories and indulged in their coffee and exquisite home baking. And he generously picked up the tab. Thanks Jim, I owe you one!